


Forgive & Forget

by CatHeights, Maverick



Series: MavCat Productions [8]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:37:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Line of Fire prequel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive & Forget

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Line of Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176212) by [CatHeights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights), [Maverick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick). 



> Here's a little Season 3 Thanksgiving treat for our Twisted brethren. Consider this to be the cranberry portion of the meal as being Cat & Mav, we only know how to give thanks with angst. Enjoy!

**Part 1 — Chris  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* **

Chris. You called me Chris. After months of Keller, cunt, or cocksucker, you walked in here and called me Chris. You gave me back my name and that should make me happy. 

But it don’t. 

Cause I’m not *Chris* to you. Not now. Not yet anyway. I’d have preferred cunt or cocksucker because at least when you spewed those names at me, it was with emotion. I could feel them. I could feel you, Toby. And I knew, you could feel me too. 

So today you spoke my name, but with no emotion behind the word. No anger, no vengeance, no passion, and certainly no love. Chris, now said with no more feeling than wall, door or table. Who knew indifference could cut deeper than hate? Fucking Said, of course.  
He wants you to swallow your feelings like some bitter pill. Like if you don’t talk about them, they’re no longer there. Guess he ain’t never learned the further you push them down, the more forceful they come rushing back. Every fucking time. Believe me, I know.

If I really believed you felt nothing for me, I’d end it right now. But you can’t shit a shitter. You can’t hide from the truth. You may be able paint a stoic expression on your face and fool Said or Sister Pete. But this is me. I know you, Toby. I know you better than you know yourself. You love me. You don’t want to, but you do. And I don’t care how many layers you try smother it in, it still burns bright behind your eyes. 

That’s what made today’s little speech so frustrating. You came in here and asked me for forgiveness like it was that easy. Like I didn’t betray you. Like I didn’t break your bones or your heart. Like there was never anything between us but the pleasantries you save for mere acquaintances. 

“I forgive you. And I ask that you forgive me,” you said. The words as stiff and rehearsed as your body when I put my arms around you. Speaking the words don’t make them true. I learned that lesson the hard way when I said I don’t love you. 

Knowing you didn’t mean what you said, didn’t stop me from hoping it was true. Oh Christ, Toby, why couldn’t it be true? I rose and put my arms around you and for one brief moment, you were mine once more. I closed my eyes and breathed you in. And all the apologies, all the shit you threw at me and the hoops you made me jump through were all worth it. You were in my arms, and I was in yours. 

That longed for touch, that so wanted belief was as fleeting as a dream. You ain’t ready to forgive me Toby. And I don’t blame you. That’s why I asked you to kiss me. I knew if you really had forgiven me, you would kiss me like you did in the laundry room.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t back up your words. You just ain’t ready to let it all go. Your anger has been your protector all these months. It’s kept you safe and warm. You ain’t ready to let me take its place. I know someday you will. Just not today. And you got to choose the time and the place all by yourself. I can’t make you do it and neither can Said. When you gonna learn Toby, he ain’t got the answers you need. 

Don’t you see, Said’s got you down on your knees just like Vern. You ain’t sucking his dick, but what he’s feeding you is just as destructive. Forgiveness ain’t a gift to be given, it’s a prize to be won. And you can’t just say it when you don’t mean it. 

I hurt you. I hurt you bad, and you have every right to return the favor, whether it be a shank in my back, a cold look in your eye, or you not wanting to kiss me. It’s on me. I gotta earn your forgiveness. And I will, someday, I will. But not today.

So for that self-righteous motherfucker to send you in here to forgive me in the name of Allah, when you don’t, when you just can’t, at least not yet, that’s wrong. How’s that any different than Vern making you lick his boots? Both leave the same dirty taste in your mouth. 

Against you will is against your will whether it’s a death threat from Schillinger or a promise of redemption from Said. Why don’t you know that?

Said’s making you do something you don’t want to do and telling you that he’s saving your soul. Ain’t that just a little too much like Vern branding your ass and telling you he’s saving it instead?

And now he’s gonna send you on your way to forgive Schillinger. I’d like to see what that prick would say about forgiveness after Vern raped his ass, but that’s another story. He wants you to tell the fucking animal that branded, raped and tortured you, that you forgive him and that *you’re* sorry.

Why the fuck would anyone who says he’s your friend want you to ever forgive that Nazi fuck?

What did you ever do to Vern that gave him the right to do those things to you? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. So you ain’t got nothing to be sorry for. Anything you did to Vern, he brought on himself. He started the game. Ain’t your fault he couldn’t see you were a player. The fucker got what he deserves.

And so did I. I want you to forgive me. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But I can’t make you do it. I know that now. You have to come to me. And when you do, it’s gotta be because you want it as much as I do and not because someone told you that’s what you should do.

When you forgive me, you’ll look at me like you used to and you’ll kiss me like you did. You’ll say my name and mean it. I know it. And I can wait, because I owe you at least that much. 

But in the meanwhile, I’ve gotta make sure that bastard Said don’t get the chance to *save* you right into an early grave. Cause you may not see it, but his way of thinking is more a threat to your life than Vern ever was.

And there’s no way in fuck, I’m gonna let that happen. Cause Toby, you can’t forgive me, if you’re dead. 

**Part 2 — Toby  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* **

Damn it, that hurts. I should know by now not to make any sudden movements when laid up in the infirmary. Shit, I’ve spent enough time here to realize that. Well now that I’m wide awake, what should I do to pass the minutes of another unbearable day? Oh the choices. I could open my eyes and see Schillinger just a few beds down. Evidence of another idea all gone so fucking wrong. Or, I can lay here with my eyes closed still feeling, for some unknown reason, your hand pressing against my wound, holding in my life. Maybe I’ll keep my eyes closed. Not such a tough choice now, was it?

It really is surreal how even when they had me doped up on pain medication, and even now when this wound hurts like a motherfucker, I can still feel your hand. It spreads warmth through my body, holding off the cold that I swear wants to smother me. What irony is it that I did everything I could to get you out from under my skin, only to end up with you in my blood? You’re there moving through my veins, and I don’t think I’m ever getting you out now. You’ve won. Haven’t you, Chris? You always fucking come out on top, don’t you Keller?

Jesus Christ, this hurts. I need to calm down. I need to get some stronger painkillers. No. Last thing I need to add to my list of addictions are painkillers. I think alcohol, heroin and Chris Keller are quite enough, thank you. Particularly since I seem to be renewing my addiction to Keller. After all, I do believe in a form of moderation – one addiction at a time. Hey, I’m just the poster child for balancing addictions. 

Well Said, this didn’t work out at all how I had thought it would. They say pride goeth before a fall. Too bad I didn’t realize that before I ended up bleeding all over the place. You, my friend, confessed your arrogance, but I didn’t let go of mine. I walked into the lair of temptation, trying to trust in God and let go of my anger, and I was so fucking proud that I didn’t let Chris break down my barriers. I said the words. I forgave him. I hugged him. And I turned away that kiss. Turned away those lips that I dreamed of touching again. 

I thought I had faced temptation and won. I said to him as-salaam-alaikum. I wished him peace, just as I would any fellow brother of humanity, but I let him know that was all he was to me. Just another human being, one I needed to forgive, but one who I held no special feelings for. I did it, and I was so damn proud of myself, and I was so fucking wrong. Temptation wraps its way back around your soul, not when you’re strong, but when it knows you are at your weakest. The cut was made, his flesh held in my blood, and the connection was renewed.

God, Chris, I can feel you. You won’t let me go, will you? I can’t...I don’t want to believe again that we could love each other. But how do I not believe, when I can hear you in my head, feel your hand pressed against my side? Even as the rest of the world was dimming to me, I felt you, heard you, and there was such desperation in your voice. You kept pleading with me, “Toby, don’t you fucking die on me. You hear me, don’t you fucking die. Oh shit, Toby.” Again and again, I hear the anguish in your voice. It’s not a lie. Christ, it’s not a lie. You do love me. Whatever the hell that means for you, you love me. 

So is there a divine message in my search for peace leading me back to the one man who might actually understand the guilt that overwhelms me? I got to wonder, Chris, do you feel the same way about me that I do for Andy? Cause you see Andy, he fucking haunts me every night. He looks at me with those trusting eyes and asks me why? He says all my life my father fucked me over, he hit me, made me feel worthless. I thought you understood. Then he stares at me, tears running down his cheeks and says, “You told me that we didn’t have to kill ourselves to pay that  
cocksucker back. So why am I dead?”

And what do I say to that question? I’m truly sorry. I want to make it up to you. Oh wait, you’re dead, so how the fuck do I make it up to a dead person. I tried with your father, but hey, forgiveness didn’t seem to do much for him. Sorry kid. So now what? 

I followed my own version of scripture -- do unto others what has been done to you. And I learned from the best, didn’t I, Keller? I sent the lamb out with my scent on him, and he was murdered. And I knew he would be murdered. I got an innocent killed, and I planned it so coldly. Delighted in my brilliance even. I hungered for that revenge. Lord, help me.

Shit, Chris, maybe you wouldn’t understand. After all, I’m still alive, and well I, at least, never claimed to love Andy. And I wasn’t quite an innocent now was I? Still far too trusting, but not a green kid. So, maybe the similarities between what I did and what you did to me are only surface. I don’t know if that thought makes me feel better or worse. 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. My head hurts. I can’t deal with this now. I just want to go back to sleep, and not find myself facing Andy. No, I just want to wake up, and find you here, Chris. See, I’m lost. I can’t fight you anymore. I don’t want to. I want you here right now. I want to hear your voice, low and deep, so only I can hear it. And yes I want to hear you say, “I love you Toby,” and maybe I won’t say it back with meaning, not yet, but I will kiss you this time. I won’t deny myself. 

Said, I know you’re not going to approve, but I think this is the path I’m meant to follow. I’m not giving up on finding peace and forgiveness, but maybe loving Chris is a part of that. I have to know, and I have to give him a second chance, a real second chance. Not just words. 

It’s so clear what I have to do. I’m going to ask McManus to move Chris back into my pod. Yes, time to stop fighting. He does love me. For whatever that’s worth in this fucked up hellhole. Maybe that’s worth everything. I don’t know. 

What I do know is that when I get out of here, the first night back together, I’m kissing him. I want to feel that rush again. I want those hands that broke my arms and that saved my life pressed against this wound, once again letting me know I’m still alive. Maybe it’s fucked up that I think a person who caused me so much pain can take some of that pain away. But that’s what I think, and that’s what I believe. 

Chris, I need you.

God, I’m tired. Only I could get tired from thinking. Funny, I’m exhausted, and I haven’t even opened my eyes. Well that just means it’s so much easier to go back to sleep. Too many thoughts. Better to just sleep. Ouch, it hurts. That’s okay, though, because I can still feel your hand.  


—FIN—


End file.
